“Charlie’s the boy for this kind of work,” said one of the lads, addressing Marcus.
“Yes, I see he understands it,” replied Marcus. “You have quite an artist’s eye, Charlie. Where did you learn so much about modelling?”
“O, I don’t know much about it—all I do know came natural to me,” replied the boy.
“I remember seeing an account of a young man in this State,” said Marcus, “who made a statue of snow and ice that was so beautiful, that a rich gentleman ordered a copy of it in marble. Perhaps you will be as fortunate as he, one of these days.”
“I mean to be a sculptor, some time or other,” replied Charles, his face lighting up with an expressive smile.
“I suppose it’s hard work to make a statue, isn’t it?” inquired one of the boys.
“No, I don’t know as it is exactly what you would call hard work, but it requires a good deal of skill, and taste, and genius, to make a fine statue,” replied Marcus.
“O, I suppose they have plenty of tools, and pound it out,” observed another boy.
“Pound out your grandma’am with tools, just as much!” exclaimed Charles, with a glance of mingled pity and indignation at the boy who held this degraded view of the beautiful art to which his soul was thus early wedded.
“You must be somewhat proficient in drawing, Charlie, to design such a statue as this,” resumed Marcus.